


very much what he ever was

by rain_sleet_snow



Category: Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, F/M, Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 19:23:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5755282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rain_sleet_snow/pseuds/rain_sleet_snow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elizabeth and Marcus lie awake, regretting their reliance on first impressions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	very much what he ever was

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theoldgods (missandei)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=theoldgods+%28missandei%29).



> A fandom-stocking ficlet for minebyrights/theoldgods. :)

Elizabeth is prone to drawing conclusions about people based on their daemons. Though her father encouraged her remarks for his own amusement, it is not a pastime either Jane or Charlotte has ever much approved of - Jane maintaining that a daemon's appearance may give a false impression of a character, and Charlotte observing that the information is unlikely to be much to the purpose. 

By the time Elizabeth has met Wickham and discovered his deception, she regrets that she did not follow her sister's and her friend's advice sooner, and so does Marcus. It is their greatest sorrow, the one they speak of in whispers, curled up together in bed and still awake while Jane and Thurso sleep the sleep of the innocent, if heartbroken.

"If," Elizabeth says wretchedly. "If only I had _thought_ -"

"Hush," Marcus whispers, curling up on her stomach, a solid weight. He was as deceived as she was, seeing in Milia's copper fox fur the promise of wit to match their own, not a baser cunning, and never looking past Wickham's story to its inconsistencies. And they had both chosen to stay silent when they finally knew the truth.

"This is my fault," Darcy told them, and "Yes," said Alienor, who seldom speaks, but neither Elizabeth nor Marcus can permit them to take all the blame onto their shoulders. Elizabeth wonders now how she did not see that the stillness and quietness of Darcy's slender grey cat was reserve far more than it was haughtiness. It is so with both siblings' daemons, Elizabeth knows, now she has met Georgiana Darcy and her trembling Timaeus. Greyhounds are noble and gentle and quiet as well as fast, and Timaeus looks very handsome in his elaborate collars and coats; but greyhounds are shy too, and Timaeus speaks far less than Alienor and seldom interacts with other daemons. 

Elizabeth does not intend to fall into old errors. She knows Georgiana and her story well enough to be sure that Timaeus' nervousness is a true echo of Georgiana's own, and Elizabeth hates Wickham for all he has done - for betraying this gentle girl's trust, and for setting Lydia on a path to ruin that is no longer as clear as it was but which Elizabeth still sees in his carelessly cruel, mercenary nature. 

Elizabeth strokes her fingers over Marcus's sleek coat, and they catch in the collar Lydia and her jewel-shiny magpie made for their last birthday. Yellow and gold ribbon to flatter Elizabeth's complexion and Marcus's dark fur, and a fine strip of leather to give it substance; Lydia, for a wonder, had bought most of the materials herself rather than taking them from somebody else's workbox because they caught her eye. Elizabeth feels tears sting at her eyes and Marcus stirs and hisses.

Elizabeth quiets him. They must not wake Jane and Thurso.

She and Marcus hate Wickham for more than the trials in store for Lydia, and the abyss his actions opened up before the whole Bennet family, but this grievance they cannot name aloud. They know a Darcy could never marry the sister of a woman like Lydia, who scandal will always attend; even if Darcy still loved her enough to cast that aside, Elizabeth is sure no brother so thoughtful as he is could overlook the fact that Wickham is now Elizabeth's brother-in-law.

Marcus stirs and flexes. They will do nothing; they have no power to do anything that could help, not any more, not in this present case. But otters are not only grace and playfulness, quick wits and a social nature. They have teeth and claws and they protect their territory. 

Newcastle is a long way away, Elizabeth thinks, drifting into sleep as Marcus rolls off her stomach and stretches by her side. Wickham and Milia had better stay there. If they come back, Elizabeth and Marcus will be waiting, with their teeth and their claws; with a lot of lessons learned, and a lot of good reasons to hate.


End file.
